Thank The Lord For George
by bookwormtsb
Summary: A bitter argument at Harry's Christmas party after the war leaves him drying the tears of his best friend, on his bed, stuck right under the mistletoe. One shot.


Thank The Lord For George

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_Ron tapped his foot against the wooden boards as he wished he could be anywhere else. ANYWHERE. Well maybe not anywhere but this was like the seventh circle of hell. Standing by the table of drinks with Hermione in a rather revealing black body-con dress while she gripped her plastic cup in two white knuckled hands and bit her lip. They'd been standing there for about twenty minutes, neither one wanting to leave in case they came across as rude to the other. "Ron?" She asked quietly, directing her words at the dark liquid in her cup rather than his nervously flushed face. "Where are we?" Ron's first thought was that maybe she'd suffered from concussion- that could be a decent ice breaker. "I mean romantically." There, she'd dropped the r-word into a previously innocent, un-emotionally scarring conversation. He felt obliged to turn the conversation towards lighter small talk and try and salvage her dignity. "Um, I don't know?" He attempted in an embarrassed mumble. "But great weather we're having huh? I love snow." He said overly enthusiastically and with such fake cheer in his voice that Ron had to stop himself from rolling his _own _eyes. "Ronald Billius Weasley." She sounded like his mother. "That is not what I meant." Her voice softened. "Please?" Ron gulped audibly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not in a relationship place." He choked. _

"_Not in a relationship place?" She echoed. _

"_Er, yeah?" He queried, confused. _

"_Then why the hell did you kiss me in the Battle." Her tone was getting lower and more dangerous by the vowel. "Emotion?" He tried.  
>"You mean you were thinking through your trousers!" His ears turned red at the implication. "WHAT?" <em>

"_Oh come on Ron, there's no point in denying it." _

"_If that's the case then you're guilty of the same crime! Have you seen your dress? Out on the pull much Mione?" She choked out something incoherent. "Have you got a shred of dignity left?" He asked fuming. _

_Everyone was beginning to notice the heated argument in the corner and they turned towards the scene. "I used to respect you Hermione, now I realise you're nothing more than a cheap, dirty, little sl-" He was cut off as she fled the room, her cheeks a torrent of tears. _

"I hate him." Hermione decided rashly, throwing her head back against a saggy pillow and directing a flow of curses at the ceiling.

"No you don't." Harry corrected as he slowly pulled himself up from his position on the dusty floor.

"I do." Hermione sighed and turned her gaze to her best friend as he picked up the patchwork quilt which had been neatly folded at the end of the bed. "Hey! What are you doing with that?" Hermione exclaimed, pushing herself up on her elbows to examine Harry quizzically.

"You look cold." Harry said exasperatedly. She could be so stubborn sometimes.

"Well I'm not." Hermione said quickly before turning to face away from him and glaring at the wardrobe.

"Tell that to your goosebumps." He said smirking as he draped the multicoloured item over her shivering frame. "You must be." He decided with a nod as he gently tucked the blanket around her.

"Why would you think that?" She said defensively.

"Because you're still wearing that stupid half a dress!" He practically shouted.

"It is not a half dress. It's very fashionable." Hermione sneered flipping over to face Harry and taking in his plain shirt and jeans. "Not that you'd know anything about that." Harry laughed quietly at her last sentiment.

"Hitting me where it hurts- my fashion sense." He said rolling his eyes while Hermione poked her tongue out at him jovially.

"Well it's the truth!" She explained locking her gaze on his.

"At least I don't look like I splinched the bottom half of my dress off on the way here." He quipped and she spluttered.

"At least my clothes don't need a good scourgify." Harry cocked an eyebrow at her and her previously deadpan expression dissolved into a suppressed smile.

"Touché." He returned smiling.

"Go back to the party Harry." His smile faltered as he perched on the edge of the bed.

"Christ Hermione! Why would I want to go back down there?" He asked worriedly and pretended to check her forehead for signs of fever. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Well everyone wants to see you." Hermione said sadly with a twinge of jealousy in her voice.

"See there's the problem, I don't give a kneazles arse about them!" He declared and rolled onto the bed so they were lying side by side.

"Harry, I know you're just saying that to make me feel better." She said solemnly, twisting slightly so she could get a good view of his profile.

"Again, not true. So if I go down there I have the choice of seeing my ex girlfriend, her grieving family." He paused. "Or my best friend who's face is currently the same colour as his hair after he just embarrassed my favourite girl in the whole wide world." Harry finished as he counted off the three groups on the fingers of his left hand.

"Okay, okay! Point taken!" Hermione laughed breathily.

"Good. Otherwise I might have had to have used force." Harry threatened mildly and causing Hermione to giggle as he punched his closed fist into his cupped hand.

"You wouldn't hurt a fly Harry James Potter." She warned through her laugher and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? Check this out." He said grinning as he flipped himself over so he was hovering over Hermione as he pinned her elbows with his hands and her knees with his own.

"Still not intimidated Harry." She yawned.

"Mmhm." He agreed before lifting his right hand and aiming a slow motion light punch. About a centimetre above her nose Harry opened his hand and tweaked her nose playfully.

"I'm terrified." She exclaimed laughing as he flopped onto his side.

"Yeah I know." He said softly as she stiffened beside him. His brow crinkled in confusion.

"What is it Hermione?" He asked cautiously.

"We're under the mistletoe." She whispered.

"Yeah, so?" He asked stretching out with a yawn.

"This is Fred and George's-" She stopped, a pained expression crossing her face. "George's Metre Mistletoe."

"And what does that entail?" Harry asked slowly as realisation dawned on him.

"It means we can't move within a metre of where we are currently without-"

"Kissing." He said with a strange finality and a high pitched tone. Harry cleared his throat before locking emerald orbs to chocolate and dipping his head so that his lips grazed hers. She took a moment to respond before her lips had met his fully and they moulded together with a scorching heat.

"Sometimes I love George." Harry murmured against Hermione's slightly parted lips.

"Mmhhm." Hermione moaned. Not thinking to tell Harry that it was in fact regular- nargle infested mistletoe.


End file.
